I went for a walk on the boardwalk this morning at 6 a.m., and it felt good. Too good. Oh where, oh where had my morning sickness gone? For days, I’ve felt nauseated, living on saltines, soup and cereal. And meat. Lots of meat. I’ve been flirting with dehydration because I don’t want to drink liquids, given that it gets the hormones swirling around my stomach and makes me feel sick. I’ve been eating a lot of fruit because I’m always thirsty, but after a few minutes, the fruit makes me queasy. Despite all this, if the queasiness subsides even for a moment I worry. It doesn’t help that I continue to spot and that yesterday, I went to the bathroom and found another piece of that brownish red rubber cement-like substance on the toilet paper, the kind of discharge that makes me think I inadvertently expelled my child.
As I got about halfway through my walk, I became weepy. I just want to know that my baby will remain. The word ‘sustainability’ came to mind. I never really understood what they mean when the use it these days — and they use it a lot — but right now, it makes me think of my pregnancy. The sustainability of my pregnancy. I’m frustrated because I want to tell everyone who will listen that I’m pregnant and not have to fear it will all end in tears and that it’s partially my fault because I broke some unsaid rule and told everyone too early. I want to just relax and rejoice about being pregnant. I was a cheerleader at my high school in Jericho, Long Island, and my most cherished moments on the squad were when I stood in front of the crowd at a basketball game and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Gimme a ‘J!!!’ And the audience would shout back, “J!!!”
“Gimme an ‘E!!!!’”
“Gimme an ‘R!!!!”
It was cathartic. I was expelling every injustice I’d ever felt at the hands of my fellow classmates, and at the same time, I was feeling utter passion about something, even if it was something as insignificant as the desire to see our terrible little team win. I felt sad this morning as I walked because I wanted to be able to feel that unadulterated passion about my baby.
“Give me a ‘B!!!!’”
“Give me an ‘A!!!!’”
I’ll know soon enough whether the rubber cement I expelled yesterday was my baby. I have another ultrasound later this morning at Cornell.